Angel in Charcoal
by A-Spirit
Summary: COMPLETE! When an angel falls to the lowest low. Alternate Universe! SnapeHarry. Wing!fic.
1. Chapter 1 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape._**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

**Author's note: **For everyone who is still waiting on my update of _'The Cinderman's Kiss'_ I promise to update this week. In the meantime this is one of the things that has been taking up my time. I'll update this every two days as there are only seven chapters.

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_As if you could kill time without injuring eternity..._

_Walden by H.D. Thoreau_

_o_

_o_

_He didn't want to fall._

_They ripped his wings off with their bare hands. There were feet firmly planted on his back while others held him down. Two of them took hold of the beautiful white appendages and tore them from the curve of his spine. He understood for the first time what pain was. He screamed and cried tears that tasted like vinegar as they created tracks of transparent silver down his face. And they laughed at him._

_He didn't want to jump. They pushed him._

_When the Dark One stood laughing as his wings burned a black flame and sent dark ashes into the atmosphere, then leapt from the highest high to the lowest low; he was hauled to the edge of eternity and pushed from behind._

_He didn't want to fall, but it did not matter to them._

o

It used to bother him that the only thing he knew, really _knew _without the blur of pain and the sounds of laughter and the thump_thump_thump of angels falling, was his name. But, it was something to repeat to himself for reassurance that he once exist beyond his current existence. He wrote it everywhere that he could at first.

My name is Harry.

My name is Harry Potter

My name is Harry James Potter.

My name is Harry James Lily Evans Potter.

My name is Harry - JamesLilyEvansChildofLightChosenOneThatFellFromHeavenEscaperOfHellWhoLostFaithAndNowIsForeverImpure - Potter.

HarryharryharryharryharryHARRY!

He stopped writing his name so often after the letters appeared like a brand on his skin. For as long as it was there, only he could see it.

Harry Potter.

o

_He crawled out of Hell on his hands and knees. Through the fire that was everywhere. While others grew great dark wings and had eyes that glowed red or black. He emerged naked and vomitted blood that first time his fingers curled into rocks that were not white-hot embers which charred his palms._

o

"How old are you?"

Harry never knows how to answer that question. How does he explain that he lived an eternity and once was almost perfect? How does he explain that he doesn't want to know how old he looks? He feels old, looks young, rots and regrow. He doesn't care how long it has been - Seven years? So long - because he has aged like all humans age. He has learned by now that seventeen is not an appropriate age to do what he does.

So he tilts his head, narrows his eyes, blows out a stream of smoke that he has procured from the small white cylinder between his fingers, then smirks seductively.

"I am ageless, timeless, anything and everything."

Fingers that are not his own grabs at his arm. Nails bite into his flesh. Rips his shirt more than it is already torn. Pulls him into a battle of chapped lips and yellowed teeth. Tongue against tongue.

He will spend tonight inside a stranger's house, he knows.

o

_He remember his parents as glowing light. No faces. Just disjointed voices. He lost them in the uprising. Lost them the moment he lost his wings._

_o_

Sex was something that Harry did not understand.

Two bodies joined together as one. One body inside another's. The sound of skin against skin. The thump...thump...creak of a bed or a chair. The groans and the shouts reminds him of Hell. He waits for the strangers to all sprout the wings and hiss with red eyes and sharpened teeth. Gender does not matter. Age does not matter. He is timeless and was once almost perfect.

But not anymore. Not like this.

He always grabs his clothes first because once it is over there is always silence so suffocatingly loud that he hears himself screaming and he needs something to muffle the sound. It takes a while - always a while - before his skin begins to burn and he sees the blue flames dance across his naked body, making him a darker complexion than the one that he enters with. It will fade of course, just as the feathers do when they ripple, glowing, transparent and silver as they flake. One more bout of innocence replaced. After seven years it no longer frightens him that the feathers are still white.

He grabs the money and then his shoes and dresses in the safety of the bathroom.

Dark smudges line his eyes. His eyes are a dull shade of green. Once upon a time they were cut from emerald and set with love on the sculptured form of his face. He broke his nose one year. He likes that it is not so beautiful now. His hair still surprises him after all this time. Raven black and messy. Once upon a time, everything about him was fair.

But not like this.

His lips are turning black. From cigarette smoke? From the way he expects them to? They match the way his skin is tanned and his clothed are ragged. Nothing about them make sense. He does not make sense.

Fallen and yet not fallen.

He climbs out the nearest window, thirty stories up off the ground. Wonders if this time he can make the choice himself and jump. He never wanted to jump, even now. So he climbs from one balcony to another, swings from one concrete-railing interface and lands in a heap on the cold stone of another. Doesn't break his legs. Knows how to do this by now. Why not? Seven years. He wants to not remember the countless times he has done this.

The sun is already rising as he makes his way down the street. He stops to watch the event; powerless to the beauty that something inside of him still appreciates. The light makes him feel as if he is glowing and if he closes his eyes really tightly he can pretend that he has a halo and that beyond the light is the parents whose child he was once created to be.

By the time the sun is settled in the sky he walks out of the nearest department store with a bag of black make-up (why not just enhance it?), a can of soda (he can afford it)... and condoms because for some reason he is always the one on the inside of the other person's insides. As if he was not made to be violated on a regular basis.

He knows differently of course.

o

_A part of him always knew why._

_In the moment when he should have had the greatest faith, as others turned away, he had lost hope. So important that moment. Demons were created in that space of eternity. Angels were crowned. He had despaired and forgotten to believe. _Believe

_That's why his wings came off when they pulled hard enough. That's why there was nothing to stop him from tumbling into the void. It would have been better if he had chosen a side. Instead, darkness and light festers within him. He knows of course. Has always known. Even while his throat bled from his screams, even while his hands were burned and his knees were blistered, even when his back was bent double from the pain he felt as the wounds closed, he understands._

_He was made to understand his mistake._

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape._**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_If God is dead I will cry into the void..._

_Hunger of Memory by Richard Rodriguez_

_o_

_o_

"You're pretty."

In comparison to what?

He doesn't ask her that out loud. He doesn't protest. Almost, though. The words are so close to falling from his lips that he almost doesn't catch them. He wonders if she understands what she's saying. Then again, he gets told this exact line a lot from people like her. Small people with big hearts. She's probably five or six years old. He understands the attraction. Thrives on it actually. It's why every morning he walks over to the park to sit and watch them play in the sandboxes created for their sole pleasure. He doesn't smoke around them, even though the temperature is falling and Winter has been threatening for weeks now. He just likes to watch them. And he likes when one of them summons the courage to come over and do this.

"I am?"

She bites her lower lip and blushes. Hangs her head a bit. Peeks up at him from beyond long lashes and azure colored eyes. Then nods, as if the realization to answer the question has only just occured to her.

"You're prettier than me," he tells her in all seriousness, but she just smiles her shy smile at him again as if he's being silly.

She climbs up onto the mesh park bench before he can help her up. Then wiggles closer to him. Body heat? Something else? They always sit closer than politely acceptible. He always has to resist putting his arms out to just hold the small body protectively. Instead he scrapes at the black nail polish on his fingers and only realizes after he has done it that he has probably smudged the black lipstick he applied to his mouth, because he too has been sucking on his lower lip. So much for that, then.

Small people make him nervous. Really, bloody, heartwrenching, palm-sweating nervous.

He tries to act unaffected. Leans forward, stares out into the distance where the white houses with their brown roof swim into his line of vision. He doesn't look at her even though he really really wants to because she really really is so beautiful to him. He wasn't lying when he said that. Something about her makes him want to protect her.

But he has no wings to enfold her within.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Her voice is soft but more confident now that she knows he won't send her away.

Now there is a first. That question.

"Your mom and dad won't like that," he tells the cold November air and the horizon that he would be seeing if the houses weren't there in the distance. "You should probably go back to playing."

She takes his hand anyway. Cradles it between the warmth of her two small mitten-covered palms. Holds it as if it's a treasure that _she_ is protecting.

She tells him her name. That her mommy and daddy are getting a 'dee-vorse'. Tells him that she has a new baby brother but she's not too sure if she is okay with that because she's not sure if maybe he is why her daddy makes her mommy cry now. Doesn't ask him his name. Doesn't ask him why his clothes has holes. Doesn't tell him that his eyes are glowing more green the longer they sit like this, even though they both know it is. Doesn't say anything sometimes as they continue to keep each other safe in that moment.

He curls her hand and kisses the back of it just like they do in the movies. She laughs because it makes her feels like a princess.

But then her mother comes over, grabs her and calls him a teenage pedophile.

o

_Sometimes he can still feel the brush of feathers against his back._

o

It would be worse if he didn't have a place to go to when he really needs to. He knows that. So it's not every night that he has to stand on the corner of a street and waits to be approached. He only does it when he needs money. He goes on binging spells where he sleeps with three or four persons for the week then spends the next week purging. It's not like he feels anything anyway. Or at least, he pretends he doesn't. His body is borrowed goods. He learned that the day he was created but spent seven years being showed exactly what that means in human terms.

So he found a one room flat in a grungy apartment complex where he never uses the front door when the fire escape works just as well. Where the elevator sticks sometimes and so more often than not, he has to walk up numerous flights of stairs to get to the tenth floor. Ten is the number of completion.

Of course it is.

He never takes anyone into the flat. Ever. It's enough that he walks out onto the streets of London and can remarkably remember every chanced encounter he ever had. He doesn't need to lie on the settee, only to remember being bent over someone who would probably be singing his praises the rest of the night. Or worse, sitting at the dining table with a cuppa (or its equivalent), only to see a spot of white on the table cloth that he knows wouldn't be sugar or milk.

The apartment is bare, except for the few pieces of furniture that the previous owner left. He has his suspicions that maybe that person had died and stayed dead in the place for a while. He's not afraid of the dead. He's not afraid of death. He has already been to the 'great beyond' so he knows what comes afterwards. He is just grateful that the place is always empty when he needs to find somewhere to stay. He's grateful that people still hide spare keys under welcome mats. He says a soft thanks to the soul of whoever had died in the room because it made sure that no one ever came to visit.

At his age he isn't even supposed to be living alone much less own his own flat. Seven years earlier, he had been smart enough to not let on that he did indeed know of somewhere.

No rent. No trouble. Quiet as a speck of dust.

He learned fairly quickly to be grateful for the little things in life and so he's damn grateful indeed. Especially for the fact there there are no other tenants around him to discover that for all intents and purposes, he doesn't belong there at all.

o

_He dreams in black and white. _

_Shapes and sounds merge together to form a picture that he has long forgotten except in his dreams. The sound of laughter echo all around him. Not the manical dark laughter of the demons but the soft happy ones. He would see the pure, perfect shades of white that surounded him. He would feel the wind and there would be others saying his name._

_Sometimes he can feel the sense of peace he had always carried around. There is no missing something until its gone, and there is nothing now that he wouldn't give to have that glow of knowing knowing that he was safe. There is nothing that he wouldn't give to be back there and he wonders if his parents know the truth of his descension. He likes to think that there sit up there watching over him but he knows the stupidity of that thought. Would they recognize him now?_

_He might miss the place in his dreams but he knows he doesn't belong there in the way he once did._

_So he wakes and ignore the dreams._

o

"It's supposed to snow tonight."

"Well I suppose we had to expect it at some point."

"Can't say I'm too happy though. I don't mind a bit of snow for the Christmas but I'm not too keen on wading through the stuff come morning."

Harry lies on his back on the bench he had sat on just that morning. He listens to the voices fade, and of feet shuffling away to escape the predicted snow. He sees nothing but the stars and the way billows of smoke curls from his lips as he feeds off the one stable thing in his life. He'll need to bum a pack of cigarettes off somone soon, one way or another. But for now he looks at the stars and the black sky, waiting for the entertainment to begin.

Falling snow reminds him of feathers. He's happy for the reminder.

When the snow begins to fall he feels like he has taken a deep breath of fresh air. So he does just that; filling his lungs with the sharp cold and the billows of white fluff that falls towards his face and whirl into his open mouth as he sucks it all in. He chokes of course, but that makes him laugh. His own laughter frightens him. He hasn't heard the sound in a very long time. The last time he remembers laughing was under the exact same circumstance. That makes him laugh harder.

He resists the suddenly strong urge to get up and spin around -arms open wide, the world swirling around as shadows and small snatches of light- in the open spaces around him.

Instead he slowly sits up and wraps his arms around himself to keep out the freezing cold that gets past the holes in his shirt and the thinness of his pants. He closes his eyes, keeping his face turned upwards towards the sky, and just floats on the tingles of coldness that falls upon his eyelashes and into his nose and on his lips.

Because of that, he almost doesn't feel the fingertips that stroke his cheek. He wouldn't have cared either because he is so used to having strangers touch him. Except that this touch is not like all other touches. The fingertips burn, really _burn_, as they slide along his face. He knows that only one set of beings burn the things they caress. When he opens his eyes in surprise, there is a face directly above his.

Dark glowing eyes stare back at him. Black wings are fanned out before him.

_o_

_One of the last things he remembers is the darkness._

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape. _**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

**Author's note:** I'm posting this early because I won't have time to do it tomorrow. I hope you don't mind because it means that the next chapter will be posted THREE days from now, instead of two. That's okay though, right?

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_Perdóname. Andaré con frío y fuego y muerte y nieve, pero seguiré vivo._

Forgive me. I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, but I will live.

_La Muerta by Pablo Neruda_

_o_

_o_

He had been used before.

That is an understatement. He has been wrung dry of all emotions, made to beg upon his knees, dominated - but not broken; never broken. He knows what it feels like to be taken advantage of and heaven knows that some of those times he had done nothing to stem the tide of mixed emotions that he had needed to feel while bent over someone, powerful and perfect enough in that moment. He had used others before too. Taken what he needed from the bodies that wreathed before him in his mind and his dreams. If his tears did not spill like blood on the motel floors and the back-alley walls, it wasn't for lack of him trying.

He wears a cross on a thin black piece of leather cord as a pendant around his neck.

It makes what he does seem sacriligious. To stand almost innocently, naked with golden brown skin, his black hair curls about his ears and his emerald eyes are like stained glass. He knows why they reach for him, wanting to feel that sinuous flesh against their hot skins as if somehow his purity will cleanse them of their perverted actions. He lets them. Touch him. Taste him. Like a game. He smiles with ruby lips and the smile is never more than skin deep. If they looked hard enough they would see his soul through the windows of his eyes. His beautiful grey soul as it darkened more. Their perversions. His lack of protest.

He knows how to play them and make them do what he wants. He gives them what they ask for. He leaves nothing for himself. If he tried to count on his fingers the amount of times he has awoken naked and bleeding, lying in the rain or under the light of the moon, he would never remember them all. Yes, he gives and gives, as if he thinks that's what he will need to forgive himself.

Harry is no idiot though. He knows that long ago, blood stopped being the currency to buy salvation.

o

_If evil had a name it would be a Malfoy, and a Malfoy always came with a sidekick. Narcissa Malfoy had Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco Malfoy had Blaise Zabini._

_Lucius Malfoy had Severus Snape._

o

"Ask me what kind of angel I am," Harry said softly.

He awoke in a room he had never seen before. This was something he had done many times before, but this time was different. The curtains were drawn, the bed was covered in silk sheets, and everything was black. Even the ceiling was a dark shade of shining ebony. Near the window, where the curtains hid the outside world, a figure also in black held Harry's gaze. His wings were gone. His eyes were no longer the all encompassing blackness that covered even the white. They were still deep and dark, but there was no evil in them. Staring into the pools of onyx, Harry realized that he had never felt so safe and it was a confusing realization. He may not have met him before, but he knew almost instinctively who this demon was. Still it made no difference.

"I know what angel you are," Severus Snape responded. "I was there when you fell."

"I didn't fall!" The words ripped their way from Harry's lips. They were words that he had always wanted to say, to protest. "I didn't want to fall."

"I know that too."

Snape walked over to the bed where Harry was sitting, half covered in silk. He reached out to lightly stroke the smooth flesh of Harry's cheek. It didn't burn. Harry expected that it would, but when it didn't he realized that obviously there had to be a way to turn off the darkness in order to walk among innocents. The fingers retreated, only to return when Snape grasped Harry's hand and ran his fingers over the space between wrist and elbow. This time it hurt as the fingers slid across flesh. Words that Harry had not seen in a long time appeared as if branded into his skin.

I am Harry Potter.

He pulled his hand away and cradled it against his chest. His green eyes flashed angrily as he whispered one word in the space between them. "No."

Snape's eyes narrowed to match the glare. "It is who you are. Accept it. Welcomed or not, you carry the brand of the demons. It is who you are."

But Harry shook his head in protest again.

o

_The first time he knew that there was an uprising building Draco had looked at him with something more than an all-encompassing love. He did not know what lust looked like but to have that gaze fixed on him sent fear through his entire body._

_Now he thinks that it would have been easier to have gone willingly. If he had, then Draco would not have gotten vindictive. _

_Draco had wanted to share his lifetime with him and when he had refused, it was another lifetime that he was coerced into accepting. But Harry had escaped and gone to condemnation of his own accord. Now he knew what lust was. He carried it's stench everywhere he went now._

_He can't help thinking though that if he had just given in to Draco then he would not have had to give in to all the other people._

o

His escape lies in his desire to escape. Sometimes he doesn't want to and he would lay on his back and watch disjointedly as someone unfamiliar bounces up and down on his cock while he just waits it out.

His escape lies in how fast he can run and how far he will make it. It's in the thundering echoes of his feet as he runs down a deserted street at ungodly hours of the morning like he does so many times before. It's in the gasps of breaths that he takes when he falls to his knees. The tears sting his eyes as they fall silently down his face and it's just one more thing that marks an escape that he can never quite push his body into truly accepting.

He escapes now, from Severus Snape and words he heard spoken to him from lips too dark to be granted permission to address him. But he believes every word. He believes that Severus swore to Lily Evans to always keep him safe no matter what happened, and he believes that James Potter would demand that Snape find him and protect him, because long ago before the uprising Severus had owed the other angel for a great favor. He believes in demons and angels because he once lived as one and he is half and half. But, it has been too long since he had something guarding him so all Harry desires now is to escape.

"Hey, do you fancy a ride?"

Strange fingers caress his face. A strange voice assaults his ears. The tears are wiped from his cheeks as a strangers face swims into his line of vision. He is pulled to his feet, an arm is strung over his shoulder, pressing him too tightly against an unfamiliar body. He is steered towards a car just a few feet away and all he registers is that it too is strange.

"Definitely," he responds too softly.

This, he feels, is something he can never escape.

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape. _**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

**Author's note:** Getting closer to the end.

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_Every wolf's and lion's howl, raises from hell a human soul._

_Auguries of Innocence by William Blake_

_o_

_o_

_He has only been taught how to be a tool to others. To use and be used. To be wielded as a weapon or to be played with in games. He is afraid now that this is all he ever will be and he will never learn how to be self-sufficient. He doesn't belong in any world. Not in heaven where he is too tainted. Not in hell where his purity is not accepted. Not on earth where he is sure that one day he will die alone on the corner of an unknown street. If death led to divinity he would have hope, but it does not. _

_In his heart he knows that he will never really see his parents again. Not in the way he remembers them. So he fights in the only way he knows and tries for his own sort of perfection. He makes the decisions about his own life whether he be wrong or right. _

_He will not be anyone else's tool or weapon._

_"Stop following me. Leave me alone." Harry tries to turn away, as he has tried to walk away all the time now, from the demon that haunts him._

_"Like it or not Potter, I gave my word that I would protect you." Nails bite into his flesh, holding him prisoner not only in the physical sense but also a prisoner to the darkness in Snape's eyes. "I apologize if this is not acceptible to you."_

Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

_"I can take care of myself!"_

_"No. You cannot." The words are snarled into his ear. "You were not meant to walk this world alone. We are better than these heathens. We are the demi-gods. The crowned beings. With darkness or light, we were not made to bend to their wills."_

I will fear no evil...

_"I would rather give myself to them than will my soul to you."_

_"But I don't ask for your soul Potter." Fingertips caress his cheeks; slide over his lips then traces the contours of Harry's face. "Accept my help and I will make sure that you are never hurt again."_

For thou art with me...

_"I don't need your help. I can take care of myself."_

o

"Smokes?"

Harry looked around the room that they stood in. There wasn't much to see except a bed with white sheets and bedside tables at each side. Tucked away in a corner was a door that led to a small bathroom. That was it. Nothing fancy. Neither was the man who stood before him, nervously holding out a stick of already lit cigarette that just seconds before, had been nestled within his mouth.

"Alright." Harry took the fag then took a deep drag, releasing the smoke in a cloud of grey.

He handed it back. The man put it out in the ash tray that sat upon one of the tables. Then they were facing each other again. As aways Harry couldn't help the string of disdain that curled in his stomach at the way a man could go from trembling nervousness to a pillar of lust in just seconds. But the clock was ticking.

"How do you want me?"

The man licked his lips then leered hungrily at the willing boy who stood before him. "Strip. Get on the bed. Let me do the exploring."

Harry tugged off his shirt, pants, shoes and then stood for the hungry gaze to roam over his body. His eyes darkened to a shade of green that was almost black as the man's gaze bumped over the cross pendant. Which, as it always did, led to grimy fingers reaching out to caress the cold metal. Fingertips trailed away from his chest to tug at a nipple.

"You're perfect aren't you?"

These are words that Harry always hear. As if in that moment before they make their choice, they are given a glimpse of the soul that they are about to defile and they always take a moment to appreciate his once apparent perfection.

"Bed. Now." But then the moment ends. "I want to suck you so hard that you come with a roar."

Harry spread his body sideways across the bed.

His legs were bent so that the sole of his feet dug into the lumpy mattress through the coarse white sheet. Before he could take a deep breath to calm himself, an eager mouth attacked his crotch. He was engulfed into the warm wet cavern of a mouth. Tears sprung into Harry's eyes. Tears he knew not to fight as his mouth opened into a silent scream. Shame. Anger. Resignation. This was what he had become.

_"Let me help you."_

Knelt behind Harry, unknown to the other man who was too lost in his eager exploration of Harry's unwilling yet rising erection, was an angel of darkness.

Harry's tears were licked soothingly off his cheeks. Long fingers pressed the back of his palms almost painfully into the bed, until Harry curled his fingers into a tight grasp. He sobbed aloud a sound that was like a wail of pain, but it was misunderstood. The frantic mouth sucked harder until Harry's hips arched off the bed and his body was almost bent in two as the sounds from his lips became a stream of howls. Still the hand that held on to his own, kept him anchored to the bed. His tears flowed like a river from his eyes and down his cheeks.

The tears burned like acid into his flesh like the fingers that dug into his hand. The dark lips that trailed over his forehead and down his neck, licking away the streams of transparent liquid burned too.

Caught between pleasure and pain, Harry's body seemed to want to separate from itself.

He was screaming his throat raw. His eyes were opened wide with his pupils were dilated. He was trembling violently. And he wasn't sure if he should stop himself from thrusting into the eager mouth that was curled around him or if he should let go of the darkness that was holding him prisoner. In the end he gave into both. Pounding frantically upwards into the hollowed cheeks and accepting the demonic kisses that was keeping his sane, he did what he had always done and made a compromise between heaven and hell.

_My rod and my staff, they comfort me..._

"Not yet." His lower half was abandoned as the man rose to his feet, pulling off his own clothes.

"_Not yet_," Harry heard echoed into his ear.

o

_Harry's green eyes flashed with anger as he turned away._

_"I can protect myself! I've done it for years now when there was no one who cared. What was my purpose? Heaven is afraid of me and Hell will not accept me. One made me fall and the other made me escape. Why? Why am I the example? I didn't want to be different but I am! They made me different. They took my choice away."_

_He didn't get far before he was pulled backwards into the grasp of strong arms and words were spat into his ear. "You are nothing special. You are just one more fallen angel living with regret."_

_Harry fought to release himself from the cocoon of darkness, even as he felt himself giving over to the sensation of being held and protected. Being in these arms, he had come to realize ever since the night that Severus Snape had appeared before him, felt far too perfect. He fit into the tight grasp. He felt safe. As an angel, he was made for this demon. That frightened him more than the darkness that Snape was offering him for protection._

_"I didn't want to fall. I didn't jump."_

_Dark eyes glared down at Harry. Thin lips curled into smirk. Words again were whispered into his ear. "Well I did, Potter."_

o

"In me. Now. Let me feel you pounding into me. Make me beg!"

o

_"What do you want from me?"_

_"That is exactly what I want." The arms tightened. "I want you. Give me everything you are. Give me your purity. Give me your quest for salvation. I want everything that you have. Bare your soul before me. Break. Melt. Give me these things and I will rebuild you stronger than you are now."_

_"I won't bend to your will."_

_"I don't want you to bend, I want you to heal. Allow us to purge ourselves. You through darkness and me through the light. We have what the other needs."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because you desire completion and I wish for purity. You are not the only one who has regrets."_

_"You jumped. I didn't."_

_"And yet, we've both walked the plains of hell. So let me help you to heal."_

o

"Yes. Just like that. So good!"

Harry laid passively while a stranger tried to gain a taste of heaven from riding a wave of pleasure; lifting and lowering his body repetitively onto his cock. Harry tuned him out of his consciousness. Not feeling. Not existing. Not like this.

Instead, he focussed on the forehead that rested upon his forehead. He gave himself over to the fiery hot arms that was crossed over his chest. Fingers slid soothingly into his hair, caressing his neck and the sharp line of his shoulder. He couldn't escape this. He wouldn't ever be free. He had been touched by darkness and there was no way out anymore unless he came out on the other side.

As soon as the man slid off him, Harry's skin begins to tingle. It was a while - just a short while - before his skin began to burn a blue flame all over. Feathers rippled across his body. They began to flake and fall as he curled onto his side with his knees drawn up to his chest. The feathers were still whote. Still white. Except for when they came in contact with the arms that had shifted to keep a hold on him when he moved. Those feathers became ebony and then crumbled into dust.

Harry watched the feathers gather on the bed. Dark ones mixed with white before the black ones turned to ashed and the white one faded into glimmers of light. Hopping around, trying to find his clothes, Harry saw his customer obliviously missing the act of sancification occuring before his eyes. Oblivious.

Harry raised his hand to hold on to the arm that held on to him.

"Help me," he whsipered brokenly.

"I can." There was a nod. A gentle kiss on his tear stained cheek."I will."

Then the room exploded into a world of darkness.

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape. _**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

**Author's note:** For those of you who do read it, I am so very sorry about 'The Cinderman's Kiss'. I know what I want to write but I can't seem to write it. For anyone else who doesn't care, this is the last of the pre-written chapters of AiC. There are two more to go. Let's hope this doesn't take me four months to update too.

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall. I am he who knew what it was to be evil. _

_Crossing Broolyn Ferry_ _by Walt Whitman_

_o_

_o_

_"You are created special. Perfect. Innocent."_

_Those are the first words that Harry ever remembers hearing. He remembers staring into the light that was more than just light, as he tried to see the face of the figure that sat on the throne. He remembers smiling at the smile on his creator's face. He remembers the trust that he had no reason to question at that time. And he remembers the intense, overpowering sense of love that washed over him. He remembers thinking that he was safe._

_"These are your parents. Your protectors."_

_That was the second thing he was told. He had automatically assumed that this meant he would always be protected. So when he turned to face James and Lily Potter, it was with a smile on his face. When he was embraced by them, it was without a single doubt that he was created as a gift to them and so he promised himself that he would be their special, perfect, innocent gift for eternity._

_"We will always love you Harry. Wherever you wander, you will always have us in your heart."_

_He had believed those words; his mother's words. He had believed in the warmth of her embrace, in the smile on his father's face, in the feelings of security that he had when he walked by their sides. _

_Why wouldn't he have believed in them?_

_He had nothing to fear while he was wrapped in their arms with the feathers of white wings tickling his face as he snuggled into their embrace. Nor when he was laughing into the pure air while running, running, running through fields and fields of grass and sunflowers, having them shout his name while they too laughed. He was free and happy when he spun around in snow that was never too cold or danced in rain that was never too wet. He was the beloved of heaven. He was created purely from love and it was all he knew as he was immersed in it. He revelled in it. Love defined him. _

_He never saw the eyes that watched him so much that sometimes they would become dark, dark, midnight black. He never heard the whispers. He never felt the seed of jealousy spread and take root. Never. The dark eyes watched him from afar and though he didn't know it, they too kept him safe and hidden from the spreading discord. _

_When he fell asleep in the snow as white covered in a blanket of white, he never knew that always sitting beside him would be one other being who had sworn, even before Harry was born, to protect him. Nor did he feel the fingers that ruffled his hair as light wind ruffled the strands when he lay in the fields of grass. And he never felt the shadow fall over him, nor hear the words exchanged above his tired form when his father reluctantly moved his head from the comfort of where it had fallen when Harry drifted to sleep. His father would give up his seat to this other angel, while his mother lightly traced the nubs and planes of ankles and toes on the feet that she cradled in her lap as a means of always being connected to him._

_As an angel, Harry Potter never knew Severus Snape as anyone other than merely another ange,l and that was how Severus wanted it to be._

_And then hell broke loose._

_Harry could have lived for eternity and know that for eternity he would never forgot what it felt like to be a fallen angel. He would never forget the heat of fire and brimstone raining down from a sky that was always black. It was a place where there was no light, but for the fire that burned; no sound except for the screaming souls of the damned and the laughter of a thousand fallen angels as wings ripped its way out from the curves of their spines. Black feathers made up great black wings as each demon preened; oblivious of anyone else and lost in vanity and greed._

_His tears fell like diamonds from his face, falling onto the hot embers that made up the ground and sizzling as he crawled on his hands and knees, afraid to rise, afraid that soon he too would feel new wings rip their way out of where his beautiful white ones had once rested reassuringly. Afraid and alone. His palms blistered. His knees burned. His tears kept falling. Weaving in and out, between legs and over bodies, he forgot the turns he took as soon as he took them. It was endless. The dark places felt darker than any darkness he had ever experienced before. The fire burned hotter than any fire he had ever seen. The pain was unbearable. _

_Still, he was being protected; kept safe. Though he did not know it, he was being allowed to escape._

o

"I never knew it was possible to still feel anything."

"Be grateful for the fact that you do. It took me a while after I began to live here, before I felt anything or saw anything or cared."

Harry snuggled into the embrace as strong arms carried him. He tightened his arms around the thin neck, behind the curtain of black hair and was grateful that he was not given the chance to use his legs. His body felt broken. Every limb hurt like he had been crushed by something heavy. He hung, mostly limp, if it were not for the man that cradled him and distracted him from the pain. Harry rested his head upon the shoulder that was before him, then he inhaled the scent of Severus Snape. And he knew, like he knew his own name and history that he had always known when Snape was near. That Snape had always been near him, somehow. Even in his darkest moments Harry realized that Snape had been a constant presence.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. Anything. Tell me why you fell. Tell me why you kept me safe. Tell me about the last thing you remember about there. Tell me about my parents."

"Why?"

There were no wings now, neither black nor white. There was no laughter to drown out their words. No light. No dark. No heaven. No hell. No mistakes and regrets or deliberation and choice.

Harry sighed softly into the limp strands of black hair and he hid his exhaustive tears against the pale column of Snape's neck. "I don't know. Because I'm tired. I want to know. Because I asked you nicely. I want to be told the truth for once and I know you won't lie."

His body seemed to sink into the cotton sheets and wool blankets as he was lowered onto a bed that he recognized to not be his own. He felt cold out of the arms that had held him. Mostly he just felt tired.

"Before you were created, before the uprising, before there was a difference between darkness and light, I gave my word to always keep you safe."

"You said yourself that I was nothing special."

Dark eyes turned to Harry. They were cold and emotionless, but Harry could read them like a book. The gaze transferred to the rest of Harry's face, before a tentative hand reached out to stroke his face.

"You are special to me." A single finger traced the curve of Harry's lip.

"Am I?"

"Yes," spoken softly but nowhere near gently. "Now go to sleep."

Harry raised his head, silently daring Snape to oppose. Then he did what he did best and without room for refusal he joined his lips to Severus'. Tasting. Sucking. Moaning. His entire body began to tingle as if there was electricity being pumped through him. Each tingle began to burn until he felt like he was on fire. He whimpered, unwilling to stop but knowing that he should.

Severus's eyes were bottomless pits of black with no white when they met Harry's again.

"Go to sleep," he said in the same way that he had said the words before.

Harry could only nod once, before he collapsed back onto the bed into an unconscious slumber.

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape. _**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

**Author's note:** One more chapter.

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_I'__ve looked at love from both sides now. From give and take, and still somehow, I really don't know love at all._

_Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell_

_o_

_o_

_Harry doesn't remember what his mother looks like. He can't remember her smell or the way she smiled. All he remembers is the sound of her voice in panic and the transparent liquid silver of her tears. He misses everything about her sometimes but it's frustrating to miss the things that he cannot remember clearly._

_He has her eyes. _

_In the beginning he used to stare at pieces of glass to feel closer to her. That was how he got to talk to her when he felt alone. The worse feeling in the world to him was the clawing, empty, feeling in his stomach when he missed his mommy._

_Now he barely looks into his own eyes when he stands in front of a mirror._

o

Harry made no sound as he snuck into the dark bedroom, closed the door, then made his way over to the bed. From black tiles to black carpet, his barefeet barely registered the change in temperature as he intently got closer to the bed where he stopped to stare at the dark eyes that stared back at him, reflected only in moonlight.

He slowly crawled on top of him and didn't stop until he had aligned their bodies together. Then he waited for Snape to accept or reject his silent offer.

"This is not necessary." Fingers stroked through the strands of untamed hair as Severus' softly spoken words hung between them.

Harry trailed a line of small kisses from the curve of Snape's collarbone to the lobe of an ear before he paused first to inhale the scent of charcoal in Snape's hair, then to bury his face in the softness of Snape's skin.

"Want to," he murmured, not able to stop kissing the demon just yet.

Severus stroked his face and the curve of his spine from the back of his head to the small of his back. Harry moaned at the sensation of having fingers lightly ghost over his naked skin.

"If we do this it will be done my way," Severus whispered against his temple.

Harry raised his head to look into the eyes of onyx. It was the clearest he had ever seen the dark globes. He wondered if this was what it felt like to look into another's soul through their eyes. There didn't seem to be anything to fear from them so Harry readily nodded his consent.

He hesitated slightly, but when Severus did not seem to object, he pressed his lips to the inviting ones below his.

Some part of him immediately got lost in the kiss. It didn't burn at all. Instead it made him breathless and he couldn't seem to stop. Each time he chased Severus' tongue, each time his lips was caught in a light nip or he tried to alternate between sucking and teasing, it made him all the more addicted. It made him want more and more.

But when his hand tried to get past the barriers of Snape's pants, his fingers were steadfastly caught and restrained.

Harry finally groaned aloud. "I thought that demons always took what was being offered without questions or care."

"We do." Severus responded but Harry's fingers were still being held away from the parts of Snape' that he wished to explore. "Not this time."

Hary couldn't think of any way to respond to that without his confusion becoming obvious.

Severus stroked fingers through his hair and away from the green storm of his eyes before saying to him quietly, "I asked if you could do this my way Harry. If it's not enough we can stop."

"You don't want me?" Harry turned away as he asked because for the first time he actually wanted to be desired.

Instead of answering, Severus slid Harry's hand southwards to feel the strain of a building erection. Before Harry could get comfortable with the sensation, Severus pulled his hand away. Then he shifted his body as Harry tried to align their hips together. Harry got the message after that.

He sighed. "Okay. Just kissing? Kissing is okay."

o

_What he does remember about her is the way she used to stroke his hair._

_Her fingers would slide through the strands, lingering to massage his temple and sometimes her thumb would carve circles on his cheek. That's what he misses. Sometimes he remembers the times when he felt safe in her embrace. She smelled like fresh air and sunlight. Her touch was like feathers gliding across his flesh. And her hair always tickled his cheeks. It was like spun gold and the orange-red of a flickering fire. He liked the way it looked up close and whenever there was a wind it would flutter behind her in a wave of colours that was like a sunset. _

_He misses that about her, he realizes._

o

Harry laid trembling in Severus' arms as he fought against his body's reaction. He was so very close to begging. He was close to begging to please be allowed to unbutton Snape's shirt so that he could wrap his arms around Snape's neck and taste every inch of the hard chest. He wanted to grind their hips together until one of them came. Or, to coax Snape into accepting him into his body so that he could be assured that he was giving pleasure. That was usually what the men he catered to wanted. This deal of kissing only, was not enough to make the demon truly experience the extent of what Harry knew that his skills in sex entailed.

"This is not just about sex Harry," Severus whispered into his ear as if he knew what the fallen angel was thinking. "It's not about any of us just taking what we want and leaving the other to deal. Love is a gift not a slow poisoning. For too long you have been obligated to give it in any way that you can and you have fogotten what love should be about as you've punished yourself these few years. Tonight I want you to understand it and to just accept it."

"Isn't it enough that I want to make you feel good?" Harry asked in a confused voice.

Severus shook his head.

"You don't understand because you don't know and so I will tell you why," he responded. "I too have to remember love without lust. I have wronged you and heaven with my arrogance but tonight I will prove that I can give and you will learn that it is acceptable to enjoy what I do to you."

"How did you wrong me?" Harry asked.

"You don't understand do you?" Severus stroked his cheek and lightly kissed the lips that seemed to only be made to be kissed by him. "You, Harry Potter, were made for...me."

"I was made for my parents."

"No. You were entrusted to your parents but you were my gift." Severus' eyes lit up as the darkness in it creeped and covered all the white. "You who are made entirely from the laughter of the angels, who is respected even by the demons, whose flesh is woven from love and whose soul was once the symbol of purity to all. You are mine."

"But you fell!" Harry protested.

Severus nodded again, this time letting his hand travel down the smooth plane of Harry's bare skin until his palm rested in the center of Harry's chest as Harry held himself rigid and hovered slightly upright above him. The green eyes were awashed with confusion.

"Yes I fell because I will not be manipulated!" There was an actual snarl in the words. The air in the room became very still. "You were a bribe. You were my almost perfect gift, to remind me of the purity that heaven can create. But seeing you reminded me that I was just a servant for this one god who used the love that we all had, to keep us bound to him. Even as a demon I still loved him. I still cared about you. You should have been mine but he gave you to James instead and instead of asking me to take care of you he ordered me to protect you. I would have done anything for him, but I will not be taken advantage of."

"He knew," Harry whispered back as the pieces fell in to place. "He knew that you would fall."

Severus' eyes narrowed mockingly but he could not hold the expression for long so it collapsed into a begrudging form of respect.

"When has Albus not known everything? He is the Light. He fights for the angels and mourns when the demons are lost. He is willing to sacrifice himself if it means saving just one of us or one of you. This is not so with the Dark One. I would rather fall to my knees before Albus than kiss the hem of Voldemort's robe. I may not and never will again be of the caliber of the angels but what I lack is not love or respect for him."

Harry looked at him as the darkness faded and something like an aura filled the room instead. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or be surprised.

"I assumed you were, but you're not a demon are you?" he asked.

"I am and I am not," Severus said with an arched eyebrow. "It's better if you just accept me the way I am just as I accept you the way you are." Severus traced the line of Harry's nose to the soft curve of his lips. "Now enough talking little boy. I did promise to teach you patience and I find that mine is beginning to run short."

This time Harry did laugh. But, that laughter quickly dissolved as Severus flipped him onto his back on the bed and began to kiss everywhere on Harry's body that he could. Tasting the purity that clung to Harry's skin. Holding him in his arms not tight enough, not deep enough to soothe the craving that burned in both of them.

It wasn't long before Harry was moaning back pleas that threatened to errupt from his lips as his body began to ache and tremble for more than just kisses.

o

_He has a variation of his father's face and he has his father's smile._

_He is willful like his father and fearless when it comes to the things that he loves most in the world. Stubborn and proud and strong, like his father. There was a time when it hurt Harry to remember what his father was like. It shamed him to think that perhaps he did not have the strength of character that his father had and that he could not make his father proud because he was not proud of himself. _

_He knows now, somewhere deep inside of him where doubt cannot enter and pain cannot pierce, that his father never stopped carng about him._

o

"Severus..."

Severus soothed Harry's keening words with gentle kisses. It was quite obvious that Harry had endured all that he could and so he was near tears from the desire that clawed its was through him. Severus held him and whispered to him that it was okay to feel like this. It was okay to want something so much that it hurt. It was okay to even want at all.

He released Harry long enough to peal the clothes from off his skin in a manner that was not entirely in accordance with the laws of physics, but Harry didn't even notice or care about that. Instead he gasped so sharply at the feel of Severus' naked body aligned with his that it sent waves of heat tearing through Severus' insides.

"Please. Please Severus. Please..."

Severus held himself steady as he positioned himself at the entrance to Harry's body. Harry sobbed but didn't seem to want to move in case he caused Severus to retreat. Severus of course had no intentions of leaving him like this.

He slid into him slowly, treasuring the raw sound of gratitude that Harry made as he was being filled.

Then he carefully held him as he gave Harry time to adjust to the odd way it must feel to be connected so deeply with another being that he was no longer a single entity. Severus held Harry for as long as he could before his body protested and he had to move inside the tight hot channel of Harry's body.

Harry's words dissolved into incoherent sounds of pleasure. Every breath exhaled, every moan and every sound was softly whispered into Severus' ear uncontrollably. Severus would have asked for nothing else than just that as he increased their pace. The bed rocked beneath them. The air was filled with the carnal sounds of their flesh slapping and sliding against each other.

Harry's body shuddered with release and Severus held on to him tightly even as he spilled his own release deep inside of his beautiful angel.

o

_Harry knows that he would fight the demons to protect those things in life that are worth protecting, and in this way he is closer to heaven than he gives himself credit for._

_His soul is tainted, not by darkness but by the cruelty that life has dealt him._

_He is Harry Potter._

_He is an example to all that love is stronger than anything else in the universe and with love he can win in whatever battles he must fight._

o

They laid still holding each other long after their bodies slid apart and the falling feathers cleansed their flesh. This time the white feathers danced with the black ones and both disappeared in pockets of light that made their skins glow each time. They breathed in syncrony as Severus stroked through the mop of black hair as Harry's head rested on his chest. Harry's fingers played with the nub of one pink nipple that was within his line of vision before he laid his palm over it and obscured it from view.

"You're probably tired," Severus pointed out. "Don't try to stay awake. You can just go to sleep."

"Are you going to use your powers to make me go to sleep again?" Harry teased.

Severus kissed the top of his head. "I won't have to. You'll give in to the drowsy spell of your body soon."

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Harry's eyes closed as he was breathing gently upon Severus' skin. Severus did not move, instead he waited and merely held on tighter as the light he was expecting, filled the room until there was no sign that the furniture had even been any colour but shining silver.

"Give him back his wings. He deserves them."

The three heavenly beings that gazed down at them smiled.

"You know better than that Severus," James said with a teasing grin. "He never lost them. Not really. They were merely hidden from him. Thus the feathers."

"Then un-hide them."

Lily smiled. "So demanding, charcoal angel. Do you want to make him charcoal too?"

"Lily, now is not the time to tease him," Albus chided. "Our presence is already making him restless. Far be it from us to deny him this request. He has already earned his place back in my ranks. He already loves him."

"Which one?" James laughed. He could not resist the urge to bend and kiss his son's cheek though.

Severus' arms tightened just a little and James, obviously sensing this, winked at the show of jealousy.

"Both James," Albus responded patiently. "But they have made their choice, so Earth you will remain on my charcoal angels. You are already so much alike and have so much in common with my human beings."

"This is my grateful face."

"We can tell." Lily laughed as she too bent to kiss Harry's cheek. This time Severus did not protest in any manner. "Take care of him Severus. For me, if not for James."

"Of course. He has always been safe in my presence."

"I know," Albus conceded. "And it has taken a long time for you to realize this my fallen, but that no longer matters."

The light retreated just as slowly as it had emerged and with it the three beings disappeared. When it was finally dark again enough to see his surroundings Severus' first reaction was to growl in exasperation as he noticed the change that his room had been subjected to. The black silk had all been replaced by a black, white and grey combination.

In his arms Harry shifted and sighed.

Severus soothed him with strokes along his back and butterfly kisses, as he forgave Albus and his meddlesome ways.

o

_He is Harry James Lily Evans Potter. Child of light and child of laughter._

**X-x-X**

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7 of 7

**Disclaimer:** The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: _Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape. _**

**Summary: **When an angel falls to the lowest low.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

**Author's note:** Last chapter. You all understand that if there is still something you don't understand I can't do anything anymore, right. Thanks for reading this! I cherish all your reviews.

o

_**ANGEL IN CHARCOAL**_

o

_Square one. My slate is clear. It took a world of tears to get back here._

_Square one by Tom Petty_

_o_

_o_

Harry lights the last cigarette that he will ever smoke from the last pack that he owns.

He laughs as he tosses the empty carton away, watching it sail through the air, and enter the bin flawlessly. That is the third carton that he has sworn to be his last but this time he means it. Really he does. He has a good reason to quit now and has in fact been weaning himself off the cancer stick for a while now. Besides he promised Severus that he was going to stop this time and they have yet to break a promise to each other.

He turns the corner from the youth centre that he works at and has to remind himself to look both ways before he crosses the street. He is still learning not to take unnecessary risks. At least he managed to dress for the weather tonight. Something about the coming dark makes him restless. Maybe it is because every since he can remember he has always haunted the darkest places of this route but tonight he won't linger on the corners of the road.

It is almost midnight which means that he is almost nineteen now.

He has lived that long. The thought makes him smile. Funny how life just seemed to go on anyway while he was busy learning how to live. His feet leads him and he follows without much thought. Except, as he turns off the next intersection near where he used to live. He slides the hood of his black sweater off and allow the cool night air to ruffle his untamed hair. His fingers linger on the pendant that he still wears around his neck, now amidst a sea of other trinkets and charms.

"Hi Harry."

He enters the world of the night walkers and he knows every one of them by name just as they know him. In some ways he knows that they respect him as much as they envy him. Not many have done what he did and managed to leave this life behind. But just as he is accepted without hassle in their midst, he accepts them the way they are. He has no right to lecture or chide them and they know that he won't.

Someone kisses him on his cheek and that gets him to smile.

"Happy birthday pretty boy," someone else whispers and Harry is surprised that they remember.

"Thanks," he responds softly before yet another person hugs him. "Good luck tonight."

More than one person winks or makes a suggestive face at that. The little gathering quickly breaks up however when a car pulls up near them and everyone's attention becomes rivetted on the glistening sheen of silver as it slows.

"Hey Green Eyes, five hundred quids for a ride with me."

Harry smiles the way he used to smile at such a request, and everyone holds their breath because five hundred is a lot of money and only Harry could ever get that on his first hour out.

"Not tonight," he says softly, and leaves it at that as he waves goodbye to his friends.

He walks away. Someone else gets in the car. Harry doesn't look back. Not once.

o

_He made his peace with his past even before he knew that a part of him needed to let go._

_He fell because he never had the choice to choose differently. He was never supposed to live in the light and fear the dark. He was made to see the different shades of grey between Heaven and Hell. He couldn't just be one when he was made to be both._

_He fell because he compromised._

o

The full moon lights his way as he picks his path carefully.

It takes skills to climb the tallest building in the city so he is grateful for little things like elevators and fire escapes, and of course it helps that the roof of the clock tower is like a bacony. Being up so high should make him dizzy but he has been higher before and looking down just makes him feel like he's flying.

So he spreads his wings.

They are made of beautiful white feathers from tip to tip, are huge enough to cover him entirely and are strong enough to protect him from harm. He opens them to their fullest because all day he kept them hidden and he hates doing that as much as he hated never having them in the first place. But he does have them now.

He takes the last few drags of his dying cigarette and blows the smoke up to the stars above him in a swirl of grey mist and laughter. A light breeze catches the cloud of smoke and carries it away, ruffling his hair and sending loose feathers from his wings fluttering around and behinds him in tiny snatches of sparkling light.

He laughs again and the wind catches that too.

o

_He fell because Severus fell._

_His soul was always linked to the fallen angel. They would never have been able to stay apart for long. He does not know that though, but he understands in the way that he understands feeling incomplete and hurting all the time. He was meant to be protected and when Severus fell a part of him fell in that moment also. And that was where his doubt in the angels came from. He could not believe when a part of him knew that there was nothing to believe in. So his wings came off and he had to learn to deserve them again._

_He fell because the one who loved him was a fallen._

o

"You promised to stop."

Harry retracts his wings with just a thought, and it is as if they were never there. In their place strong arms wrap around him and he is pulled against a solid chest. The words that are spoken tickles his ear. He chuckles at the sensation and snuggles into the embrace because he always did fit perfectly in these particular arms.

"I did stop. See me stop," he responds.

What is left of the cigarette is plucked from his fingers. Sharp teeth chides him with a nip at his earlobe. He ducks away but the reaction is delayed and he has no true desire to leave the warmth of the arms holding him so protectively. So he watched as the last of his last cigarette is tossed away, falling and falling as just a small red glow.

For a brief second, Harry falls with it but the moment is short and the demon who holds him does not let him go.

This time black wings wrap around his also and it occurs to him that Severus might be skilled in mind reading or perhaps knows him well enough now. In any event he finds the black feathers that are so alike and yet so different from his own feathers, rather fascinating. Keeping his hands within its enclosure, his fingers trace the pattern that the feathers create as they merge to form the elegant black wings.

He caresses them just the way he likes to be caressed.

"Behave," Severus whispers to him, but not before Harry feels the shiver that courses through the sensitive appendage.

Harry laughs softly at that but he manages to stop teasing. Instead, he tilts his head to allow for the soft kisses that are sprinkled on his shoulder and along his neck in between his whispers of the amount of seconds it takes to count down until midnight.

"Happy Birthday Angel," Severus whispers to him when the twelve chimes of midnight are over.

Harry turns to face him as arms and wings retreat to grant him whatever freedom he desires. Harry simply stares into the dark orbs that gaze silently back at him until all he can see is ebony glowing in the moonlight.

"Surely you didn't ask me up here just for us to play the star-struck lovers. How do you wish to celebrate another year on Earth?"

Harry doesn't even try to hide his grin before he wraps his arms around Severus' neck, tracing the prominent nose with the pad of his thumb as he whispers exactly how he wishes to celebrate his birthdate. As an added incentive he glided his lips across Severus' lips, before allowing them to fall into a deeper kiss that takes both their breaths away.

"No," Severus protest immediately. "You will catch your death of cold."

But Harry just smiles at that too.

o

_There needs to be a balance at all times. Good must be countered by evil. The Darkness must be tempered by The Light. When there is no balance the angels fall and the demons roam the Earth. The humans suffer. Albus finds that he is willing to manipulate the very threads that holds the worlds in homostasis and he is willing to create an angel for a demon that he knows will fall, in order to empower the light again. He is willing to take a child from his parents to save them from becoming charcoal angels too. He is willing to die for demons or angels to keep the scales even._

_In everything there must exist a balance._

_Harry is the balance between Heaven and Hell._

_That is why he fell._

o

Severus makes love to Harry on the balcony of a clock tower at midnight.

Harry clings to him, covered only in feathers and the light night breeze and seen only by the stars and the moon. But in his world, in those hours as they wait for sunrise, Severus becomes the center of his universe.

He muffles his gasps and moan in the crux of Severus' neck and shoulder as he pulls him deeper into his body, enough to brush the core of his soul. The fire-hot heat of Severus' skin keeps him warm and he cannot imagine ever letting go. He cannot ever imagine going back. Nothing is as as beautiful to him as the pleasure he gets as they perform this carnal dance together. Not even heaven has this form of perfection.

When the first rays of the sun breaks at the horizon they wrap themselves in a tangle of wings and arms as they sit back and watch the painting in progress. Harry raises his head, closes his eyes and inhales the sharp cool air of a new day as Severus gently rocks him to a tune only they can hear.

And, Harry whispers good morning to the heavens.

**o-X-o**

_The End_


End file.
